She was Tired 2
by EmpressHimiko
Summary: Sarah loved Jareth. And Jareth loved Sarah. And that was how life was. Mentions/Description of Rape- This is an edited version! Suggestions are helpful, it will soon be three-shot
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I think I've returned! I've been a bit bored lately, so I'm thinking of making this a two-shot~ But I wanted to clean this up a bit!**

**Please let me know if anyone has a particular idea for the second half~ I have a good idea, but I'm up to suggestions!**

* * *

**I couldn't write, so I went to my fail-safe word, and typed in she was tired.**

**This came out, its not well edited, but I think it's pretty good, I'm sorry I didn't update one of my stories! But more than 2000 words (minus this bold part) is pretty good for two days of writing**

**I don't own the Labyrinth, but I do own a copy of the disk and a whole bunch of "The Other Boleyn Girl" novels (by the same lady, good stuff!), and I am thinking of throwing a costume party.**

**Oh! And to understand the exchange between Sarah and Tenicus, you need to know that it was a common occurrence for courtiers to jokingly declare love for women, for political connections and such.**

**I do not approve or condone rape.**

_They say marriage does many things to a person, within fae society, it is a complicated blood exchange, and your bond is so much more intimate than that of a human hand fastening, different for every person._

_This is what happened to Sarah._

She was tired, but when she saw the sunlight spill through the windows, she gingerly rose from the bed, bones softly creaking in the room.

Sarah was alone.

She dressed herself, the moss green silk of her gown sliding over her skin, covering most of her, with Juliet sleeves and a square neck.

She blinked wearily, yawning slightly as she left her rooms, and a small woman approached her.

"Mistress Sarah," the hobgoblin's sweet blue eyes twinkled at her, "Kep and I will wake the others soon, will you be dining in the Great Hall with Master Jareth?"

"Yes," Sarah said softly, "Thank you, Kip, you may go now, we wouldn't want the King to miss me."

With a small bow, Kip left, and Sarah quickly walked through the different hallways, until she found the familiar doors of the Great Hall.

She gently pressed them open, and seated herself at the head table, beside her husband, her eyes cast out to the meager morning crowd.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked at Jareth, and seeing nothing to alarm her, inclined her head to him, with a small smile, her voice tentatively sweet "My Lord."

He gave her a sharp nod, his eyes looking out, like hers did, but she saw them flickering to the door every few minutes, and after she began to eat her food, she found out why.

A large crowd of women entered, merrily chattering away, laughs filling the hall as more and more of the court entered.

One girl, in particular, Paella, tossed her head particularly high, throwing a flirtatious smile to the king, and Sarah looked away, scraping her fork over her plate.

Her lips pressed together, her eyes filling with tears, and Sarah quietly excused herself from the table, the court rising and billowing in a swirl of bows.

As she was leaving the hall, one of the young men approached her, a young man, hardly twenty, Tenicus she recalled, was sitting in the windowsill opposite the door.

"Ah!" he called, his voice light and cheery in the midmorning sun, "My Queen!" Sarah hid her smile in her sleeve, as he swept into a low bow, sweeping his cap off his head, his dark curls springing free.

"Good morrow, Tenicus," she said, amusement apparent, though dulled by fatigue.

"Good morrow, my love!" he cried, the others walking into the Great Hall snickering, "Have you accepted my proposal yet? Will we leave this castle yet?"

Her high, clear, laugh echoed in the hall, "Not today, my little one," she paused, her head tilting with a little smile "have you written any poems as of late, they are wonderful to read."

"No, my sweet," he said, an amused smile hiding behind convincing disappointment, "they are only for you, but I must take my leave now, or your husband will have my hide."

"Your and Culpepper's!" another courtier called, and the hall again filled with laughter, and Sarah left the boy behind, seeking her chambers.

Not too far away, before the distant laughter stopped echoing, she walked into a corridor, only to see it occupied by two people already.

There Jareth stood with his wench, Paella, against the wall, her legs wrapped around his slim hips, her dress hitched as he roughly fucked her against the wall, her moans triumphant as she alone of the two saw Sarah. She silently left, the image burned in her mind, as the pictures of so many other girls danced behind her eyelids.

For the rest of the day, Sarah took visitors in her rooms, speaking with other courtiers, and reading when she was alone.

She dined alone in her room that night, Kep telling the others she was not feeling well.

She was standing, facing her bookshelves, when the door opened.

In came Jareth, silently seething, as Sarah looked at him with resignation.

"Jareth," she said softly, "I did nothing today."

"Then why have you not left your rooms," he said, his voice with a dangerous edge, one she knew, not an unfamiliar sound to her ears, she knew what was next.

"I am sorry," her head bowed down, "that I have failed as a hostess, husband, I will try harder tomorrow," her hands were trembling over the cover of a book.

His eyes narrowed, trying to see through her lie, by now though Sarah was sure if he knew it was or if he wanted the excuse, "Are you waiting for someone?"

"No," she cried, her voice pleading in the darkening room, the candles flickering and then extinguishing as his magic swept through the room, a cold draft blowing gently and ominous.

He stepped forward, and Sarah stepped back, her back making a small noise as the books brushed her.

His gloves were gone, and a pale hand grasped her arm, too hard, blood beginning to pool and seep through her muscles, pain going through the very bones of her arm, she felt only a dark madness flowing from his hands.

"Please stop," she said, her voice meek and soft, tears filling her eyes like they did so many other nights, knowing from the madness within his touch he wasn't listening.

Instead he growled, "Why is it you seek others," his lips by her ear, "I have promised to be your slave, why is it you turn to those boys?" he spat, making her cry out in pain as his hand grasped her other arm, the blood dripping gently through the silk of her gown, ruby against green.

"Never, Jareth," she whimpered, "Never. I would never-"

His hand struck her face, but then he was upon her, his hands roughly ripping off her gown, twisting her so her face was against the shelves.

She was pressed against the shelves, her breasts aching as one was shoved against them, and shreds of her clothing remained on her delicate wrists, the rest of the beautiful sleeves strewn on the ground.

Sarah let out a cry as his manhood thrusted into her, her dry walls creating a delicious friction to him, and a world of pain for her, his pace unrelenting and angry.

His lips bit at her neck, like he did his whores, and she sobbed as he pressed into her again and again, bruises appearing as angry lines across her chest and face from the bookshelves.

Sarah did not cry out for mercy, but after his seed filled her, his thrusts became less harsh, slowing, and he stood straight, looking at Sarah.

By now, her face and breasts had angry red and purple lines where the shelves had pressed against her, tears were streaming from her swollen eyes, and as he pulled out, she stumbled to the ground, drawing her knees close to her chest.

She whimpered, closing herself into a ball, her muscles weak and defeated, too tired and too weary to do anything.

Not a second later, he knelt down beside her, gently gathering her in his arms, "Sarah," he said softly, "I didn't mean it."

Her eyes were glazed, with slow flickering within; he gently kissed her lips, feeling them slicked with blood.

Sarah felt cold, and tired, and tried to pull herself away.

The blood was now a cloyingly sweet smell in the room, and Jareth gently lifted her, taking her to the bed, worried at her pale and ashen face.

His hands swept over her bruises and cuts, gliding over her skin and quietly muttering love riddled spells, a golden light ebbing and flowing through her veins. It was beautiful, but her eyes remained squeezed shut, and her head turned away from him.

His hand tenderly stroked down from her temple to her chin, with the golden light she looked as she did when he married her, "Sarah, love," he murmured, "I didn't mean it, Sarah," still she did not move, "please Sarah, come back." She dimly felt the madness leave his touch, the possessiveness, the wrath, leaving the two of them, with love and worry evident.

For a moment, it was surreal, and the air seemed thinner, the colors of the room too bright, the sheets too soft, and Jareth swayed for a moment, but Sarah's eyes opened, and he gave her a small smile.

She wanted him to kiss her again, and he knew, his head bowing low, his lips achingly tender as they sucked the blood off her own, the magic having smoothed away the cracks and bruises.

Sarah loved Jareth.

And Jareth loved Sarah.

And that was how life was.

**Omakes (Oh! P.s., the omakes are not related to each other)**

**Epilogue**

Less than a day later, Paella was sent off to her brother's southern estates, apparently engaged to a low match, a steward of a Duke.

And a fortnight later, when Sarah awoke she was alone in her bed, as she had for a week.

And when she walked to the Great Hall, she greeted her husband with a bright smile.

He responded with a pointed nod, eyes searching the morning crowds, in a manner that looked uncaring, but did not hide the true search from her eyes.

And Sarah sighed, her smile now gone and resigned, her head looking away in shame, as her husband looked at other women.

* * *

She wanted him to kiss her again, and he knew, his head bowing low, and his lips achingly tender as they sucked the blood off her own, the magic having smoothed away the cracks and bruises.

She loved him and he loved no other, kissed no other. Felt his love when his fingers lovingly stroked her folds, as his lips leisurely dragged over her skin, in his very touch.

She forgave him, for the other women, for his madness, and she loved him. She accepted him in a way no other would, when his member tenderly slipped into her, when her lips fell open only to him, when she pushed away the teasing advances of his courtiers, and she did not hate him for the other women.

With an exulted shriek, she climaxed, knowing that it was she he spent his nights with; it was only she that he kissed, and that his whores could not hold him like he belonged to them, because he was her slave, and she was his.

* * *

Sarah hated these functions.

Sitting upon a large, raised, gilded seat with her husband, her face aching a little because she had to smile for hours.

Jareth's bare hands had not touched her for a week, but neither had he looked at others.

Sarah was confused, wondering what he held in his touch, love or madness.

But during the feast, Sarah's dress suddenly felt to tight, her body too warm, and she felt as if she were floating above her body, swaying gently, and everything felt distant.

Jareth's eyes flickered over to her as she rocked in her seat, her eyes distant and misty.

Her hand suddenly grasped his arm, and she whispered, "May I take my leave, my lord? I feel ill."

"Of course," he said, his voice calm, but concern leaked in.

She stood up, swaying slightly, and left the hall, some of the courtiers wondering why one of the guests of honor had left as they swept into lows bows.

Sarah walked into a room, apparently a study, and her head began to spin.

She threw up into a chamber pot, her throat retching painfully, and she sat in a heap on the floor.

A few minutes later, Jareth was beside her, his loving hands gently running down her arms, and then lifting her as she began to doze.

In that moment, Sarah heard his heartbeat strong against her ear, and was lulled into a comforting sleep with her beloved.

And no matter how much she tried, she couldn't remember why she hated him, with their hearts beating together, and his arms wrapped around her.

**Please review, ideas for the second half are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I have so many ideas milling over in this one! I'm making it a three shot, maybe more if I have to, and I would love to hear more suggestions!**

**I don't own the Labyrinth~**

Greedily, she traced her fingers over the mirror, delighting in how the glass surface betrays her eyes into thinking she's in a spring meadow while the room she is in is dark because even in the Underground the stars can't light everything. But she grimaced and winced, a pang of hunger gnawing at her stomach a bit like a serpent chews it's tail in ire, perhaps skipping midday meal and supper was an ill choice, but she didn't want to disturb the kitchen staff at this hour. She sighed, and glanced back at the room, and decided it was more fortuitous to dispel the illusion, and the meadow changed back into a dull reflection of the bedroom.

From the bed, Jareth moaned quietly, "Sarah, love," his voice was thick with sleep, "come back to bed," and his fingers twitched weakly. She gave a fond smile and stepped across the flagstone floor to the bed, her feet cold as they occasionally touched the stone where the rugs didn't cover. The bed was covered in swaths of linen and cotton due to the increasingly hot summer days, and Sarah had little trouble with her achy joints when she climbed on top of the thick bed-pad.

She gently pecked his pointed ear, and murmured, "Back," and carefully settled herself among the many sheets that were haphazardly splayed over the bed, cautious not to shift the ones that covered her sleeping lover. But, instead of leaving her to her side, Jareth's arm reached out, and tucked her securely into his side, sighing when her back touched his warm chest. She loved these moments, where all was still in the world, and she was free to dream with Jareth without madness.

**.o.O.o.**

"Jareth," she whispered worriedly, her pallor was suddenly ashen and grey where it had been tinged green before, but he was pointedly looking away. "Jareth," she repeated, tugging on his sleeve once, and his head snapped to look over at her, "Please excuse me, I need to leave urgently," she pleaded quietly, but he felt the need to punish her for her imprudence.

"Sarah," he replied archly, "Surely you can withstand a few more minutes of my company? Gods know that you shy away from me the rest of the day." He leaned over his plate to swallow a potato, but her eyes followed him, her plate untouched.

But decorum made her stay there, watching as he ate each piece from his full plate, and then finally, when he reached to finish the last of his mead, he spat out, "Leave, wench, if I so offend you."

With that, she muttered, "I'm sorry Milord, excuse me," and she ducked behind the tapestry that hid a door to the nearby corridor. He snorted angrily, and looked arrogantly over the beautiful court before him, all of them knowing better then to comment on Lady Sarah's abrupt departure, though one or two women of her household did exchange worried glances.

Jareth sighed, and looked over the crowd again, his irritated face hiding an inner weariness and fiddled with the ring under his glove. It was a rather foolish token of affection when they had first gotten married, rings meant little to the fae, they didn't exchange them in bonding, but she found it pleasing to the eye, and he couldn't deny her when she insisted he wear it.

Ah, yes, Sarah.

That was a well of... well... shit.

Bitterness, and bad decisions, those were first and foremost in his mind, irrationality on his part too,

But weakness had killed the love of his mother and father; perhaps, this could all be settled in time. And gods know he has plenty of it with Sarah.

"Sarah," he breathed, idly brushing the mark on his wrist, it was a frightening, sickly, yellow, and he felt powerless to do anything.

But he is as he is, was, and shall be.

He fisted his napkin, and threw it down on the table, standing up as he did. The court swirled as all the women bowed low and the men inclined their heads. He curtly inclined his head, and left for his private library.

**.o.O.o.**

"Jareth," she moaned, "Please, stay a while, _Jareth_," and Octina shook her head ruefully, wiping the sweat off her brow, and Sarah opened one eye weakly.

"Sarah," she whispered, "You've miscarried again," and Sarah's brow crumpled as the second eye opened to weep with the other, "It's a little after midday now, lunch will be served within the hour, do you feel well enough?" _to go pretend_, was said silently. But Sarah's silent tear tracks were enough to tell the handmaiden she was in no condition to eat in front of people, much less her husband, and despite the way Sarah's eyes hardened to sit up, she wordlessly pushed her back down into the bed. Octina frowned even more as she saw the stains spreading even more on the bed sheets, no matter, it was probably better that it all left her now, rather than staying inside and becoming infected, she would have the sheets sent to the trusted maidens, they wouldn't spread news of this through the castle as some of the younger girls were prone to. "Sarah," she said carefully, "when did the pains begin? It's very important you tell me," she searched her face intently.

"I had trouble sleeping," she whispered, her eyes distant, "but I had an ache as I dressed, and I felt pain when I sat down for breakfast."

"Thank you Sarah," Octina said softly, "now, you rest, I'll help you wash when you're ready… okay Sarah?" but Sarah's eyes were closed already as exhaustion took her again. Octina sighed, and smoothed out the covers once more, she cast a small warming charm, hopefully she wouldn't develop a fever while alone, with that, she securely locked the door to the queen's private chambers and left to go to luncheon.

**.o.O.o.**

Jareth sat at the head table alone, not all the courtiers came to lunch, many took it in their rooms, in private halls, or at a different time, but he was always joined by Sarah, or rather, Sarah always sat there, smiling and chatting with the other courtiers. But today, he sat alone, silently beginning to seethe, but he sat with a plain face. A few nobles stepped up to inquire as to where Lady Sarah was, but her handmaiden always seemed to appear and quip she was resting and feeling a little ill. Luncheon was served for a full two hours, allowing some to come in early and for others to arrive late. But Jareth stayed for most of the two hours, and still Sarah did not appear.

Jareth was about to sulk away, as the last stragglers were still eating, when a familiar face sat next to him.

"Jareth," the smirking face purred, "how fare thee, my liege?"

"Oh shut up, Titus," he snapped back, breaking the serene mask his face was in, and a few of the last people sitting exchanged worried looks and listened intently, hoping to hear some gossip only to turn away as they realized it was only Titus.

"Oh Jareth, I would almost think you didn't like me," the smirk dropped, but the teasing tone remained, and the dark haired fae pulled up a plate and began to take from the dishes set on the table. Jareth scowled at his most trusted adviser, as Titus swiftly cut up some sweet meats and elegantly tasted some, "I think they stock your table a bit better then they do mine, though I suppose they do know you like elderberry and put it in many of your dishes, are they even in season yet?"

"Mmmm," Jareth hummed, "not yet, these are preserves from last harvest, there won't be more until the next month or so." He grimaced at his cousin, before sighing a bit, and reaching for a bit more of the sweet meats that he was digging into, he was a bit more hungry he supposed, having as much magic as he did needed quite a bit of energy.

Titus shot him an irritated glance, still cutting up more of the food, "I talked to a kitchen maid and she said your stores were all empty."

Jareth rolled his eyes, and took a small bit of the food, "Sleeping with kitchen maids won't get you any of the _King's private store_ of elderberry, Titus."

Titus wrinkled his nose, "You hate using that title, that must be the only time I know that you use it with excess, with your stupid elderberries."

They sat in companionable silence, Jareth still irritated, and Titus contemplative as he finished up his plate of meats and potatoes. "So," Titus began, scooping up the last dredges of meats and such on his fork, "where would Sarah happen to be today? I do love to see her face."

Jareth dropped his fork and glowered at Titus, "Her nurse says she's ill, and that she's resting now."

Titus pursed his lips, "She looked mighty peaky this morning as well, a few little birdies told me that she was rather ill when she left morning meal," Titus arched a thin black eyebrow, "but, of course, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Jareth gave an equally arched look, "She began the meal saying she was ill, but left at the end."

"Well," Titus began, voice calm and lilting, "the birdies tell me quite a bit, are you sure it was illness that took Lady Sarah from morning meal?"

"Are you suggesting it's not her health that puts her away?" Jareth snapped, "That there are other things that would restrain her to her chambers?" His lips pressed into a thinner line.

Titus merely glared at him, "I'm not saying _anything_, but you should tend to her, it's worrisome to see her in that state." Acid leaked into his tone, as did worry, and his eyes widened as Jareth stood up abruptly, a loud crack waking a sleeper or two in the emptied hall, his hand reached to snatch his cousin's cuff, but the storming fae had already gotten out of his grasp.

He stood up worriedly, Jareth had taken it wrong, all wrong and now-

He began to run after the seething King, who used his knowledge of the castle to sneak through hidden corridors, leaving Titus to sprint the long way to Sarah's chambers. Passing through the courtyard, a hastily waved sign made a loyal guard pull and release an arrow into the ivy trellis adjacent to Sarah's window, giving a low, warning, thud to the inhabitants within.

Octina began to curse, and she rashly stood up, bumping into the bed and waking the delirious Sarah, who began to cry out and moan feverishly. Octina tried to quiet her, but she quickly left the room, and threw the heavy lock behind her, a shuddering, wooden, groan indicating that it was securely locked, and she hid the key within her hood. She again smoothed her full skirts, and composed herself, when a livid Jareth appeared, on the edge of baring his teeth and growling at the woman.

His eyes blazed angrily, "My Lord," she said softly, when he was half way down the hall, "Lady Sarah is grievously ill."

He gave a horrible glare, eyes that were on the verge of blazing stared at her, and she was suddenly much, much, more afraid.

"My-" she stuttered, "my Lord, you, please- don't-"

"Give. me. the. key. woman." he enunciated each word as though they were death curses, and held his hand out to go to the room where loud moans and cries were escaping.

But she shook her head, defiantly protective to her beloved queen, "Nay, Lady Sarah-" Titus had caught up by then, huffing and eyes wildly worried as they shifted between the handmaiden and the King.

"Come every hell of the netherworld, Give me the Key Woman!" he shouted, "I will not sit outside while some man makes my wife his own!"

There was a loud crack, as her hand met his cheek, and she snarled, "How dare you!" her eyes were livid, and where she had been afraid, she was filled with scorching determination, the red imprint of her hand only served to heighten her sense of power.

He glowered, and stepped past her, but instead of being met with solid doors, with a short incantation, as Master of the Palace, the doors unlocked themselves, and swung open, revealing the fevered Sarah on the floor, panting and crying out as her temperature soared.

He was taken aback, instead of being met with a pair of shameful lovers, sweet Sarah was sprawled out, moaning and weeping in a delirium.

**I won't lie, I really love Titus. He's such a sweet, intelligent, creature, even if he doesn't always show it. I had originally written him a very large part in "Only a Dream"... but I think I've moved on from that *laughs nervously and hopes no one remembers it* So, this is just the snippet I wanted to include where I introduce him.**

Behind the desk sat a fae man, and she was struck by the resemblance between him and Jareth. They had the same build, lean yet muscular, and the same strong jaw, and their eyes both blazed with cunning, though this man's were kindly to her. Where Jareth's hair was fair and untamed, his was black, slightly curled, and cropped short, his eyes were two colors of gray, one a light dawn and his brother a dark stormy gray, and his whole demeanor seemed less commanding. His skin was more tinged peach then Jareth's was, just as pale but less white.

He stood up, with a kind smile; she noticed his lips were fuller too, as she stood a meter or so in front of the desk.

**I would love to hear more advice, and I love reviews! 3 3**

**Chapter three will be coming out soon! [Reviews make it come faster!]**


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